tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18137785088223252412024-03-13T06:47:49.791-04:00Crone HengeJuliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.comBlogger200125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-64233287873324407282022-07-03T10:35:00.000-04:002022-07-03T10:35:29.918-04:00<p> Addiction blog</p><p>Wednesday, June 29, 2022</p><p>Addiction Epidemic--Just a Symptom?</p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADunjQeDPjD1xpirRhVZDdNPLmE7Qq-HQrTEWGaGygA4ksxUaJB6XrpodM9pGNWeVUDFobFD9vS8mHK33_v6bBcK6h8lQ_UdLZ68boP8W2hWmQu80oc8ePhc_Giz1_1U1h0Zj2LFOilNHgssgrznQedfS6rPN82ewe9KWHT8ZFl6f-XR2NviLTolw/s1280/thumbnail_CanadianBrides-NorthwestTerr%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="853" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADunjQeDPjD1xpirRhVZDdNPLmE7Qq-HQrTEWGaGygA4ksxUaJB6XrpodM9pGNWeVUDFobFD9vS8mHK33_v6bBcK6h8lQ_UdLZ68boP8W2hWmQu80oc8ePhc_Giz1_1U1h0Zj2LFOilNHgssgrznQedfS6rPN82ewe9KWHT8ZFl6f-XR2NviLTolw/s320/thumbnail_CanadianBrides-NorthwestTerr%20(1).jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>http://www.julietwaldron.com</p><p>http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004HIX4GS</p><p>Everyone knows we are in the midst of an opioid epidemic. Recent figures (necessarily an estimate) show 16 million people are addicted to opiates world-wide; 3 million of those are here in the U.S. 500,000 in the U.S are addicted to heroin.</p><p>"Opioids are prescribed to treat pain. With prolonged use, pain-relieving effects may lessen and pain can become worse. In addition, the body can develop dependence. Opioid dependence causes withdrawal symptoms, which makes it difficult to stop taking them. Addiction occurs when dependence interferes with daily life. Taking more than the prescribed amount of licit drugs or using illegal opioids like heroin may result in death." </p><p><br /></p><p>"Symptoms of addiction include uncontrollable cravings and inability to control opioid use even though it's having negative effects on personal relationships or finances..." www.hhs.gov/opioids</p><p><br /></p><p>You may also become addicted to pharmaceuticals which are commonly used to treat mood disorders, such as anxiety. Valium and Xanax are two treatments doctors have become ever more wary of over-prescribing. These drugs can interfere with the workings of the autonomic system of the abuser to the point of the stopping the heart.</p><p><br /></p><p>In western cultures, alcohol is the traditional mood-altering substance, but this, too, when abused, can have deadly consequences for users as well as for anyone who gets in the way of, say, a drunk driver, or someone's alcohol-fueled rage.</p><p><br /></p><p>"Excessive alcohol use was responsible for more than 140,000 deaths in the United States each year during 2015–2019, or more than 380 deaths per day." </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbfsaaLx5fxKeI4nuArR4s_WPUz8QFvz5ii1Ivb-YCqsJJA5-G2U2aumJuTwr36gUk5usNwSMUqJ8JFAiWEQzhAhsKouoSgzOp5gWYq0pN78vCFNSXVDv5MAzeBdxIADPg4jH8EcNG0iQmMog4zmzG4yaTP384rvv4MUmou4KNOAyiooURbz0C3O-/s553/istockphoto-1282811268-170667a%20drugs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="311" data-original-width="553" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbfsaaLx5fxKeI4nuArR4s_WPUz8QFvz5ii1Ivb-YCqsJJA5-G2U2aumJuTwr36gUk5usNwSMUqJ8JFAiWEQzhAhsKouoSgzOp5gWYq0pN78vCFNSXVDv5MAzeBdxIADPg4jH8EcNG0iQmMog4zmzG4yaTP384rvv4MUmou4KNOAyiooURbz0C3O-/s320/istockphoto-1282811268-170667a%20drugs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Medical experts, however, now realize that substance addictions are not the only shape the dysfunction takes. Addictions to cell phones, to video games or to social media are a few of the categories that are currently recognized. All of these behaviors are on display inside any shopping mall or grocery store--or inside your own home.</p><p><br /></p><p>Increasingly, too, it appears that societies too can suffer from addictions, and that these "macro-addictions" are might be the gravest of all. Exactly as in substance abuse, these societal addictions can cause many members of those societies to suffer great emotional and physical damage. </p><p><br /></p><p>There is also another addiction, one to control, which appears to be an integral part of western civilization. Control, in and of itself, is not necessarily a bad thing in a world of 8 billion people (now straining our planet's resources to the breaking point), but that too is another subject too large for this small blog. </p><p><br /></p><p> "Those who do not understand their past are doomed to repeat it" An apocryphal quote by now, but having a lifelong fascination with history/society, I have spent much of my life studying it . Although raised with a Euro-centric view, I have remained to open to changing my mind, to learning and expanding my understanding.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDMuu-_vOI7pOEzdh0o4gm5G3b5h8JHzFc0sVDOtQbUe5d9sENGAPxPz7ttPSsltkaZN3wb-d0RkZnjvT3QW2B2mPAfVAlaeQVHjvxzPI-tyhmYQ4ASRBzsIycs-T0GYPRW7Q7hsMJ8vu-QJ6cO8IBHISCCPGCuUmr0YjVYpb3JnAdPxqNNc0WSArn/s3264/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDMuu-_vOI7pOEzdh0o4gm5G3b5h8JHzFc0sVDOtQbUe5d9sENGAPxPz7ttPSsltkaZN3wb-d0RkZnjvT3QW2B2mPAfVAlaeQVHjvxzPI-tyhmYQ4ASRBzsIycs-T0GYPRW7Q7hsMJ8vu-QJ6cO8IBHISCCPGCuUmr0YjVYpb3JnAdPxqNNc0WSArn/s320/007.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p> When European colonists came to America, they met people who lived in completely unfamiliar social systems. Certainly, in the context of history, there was no way for Europeans to see those new people other than as "savages." They did not share our traditions or our religious beliefs. Arriving on these shores having been born and raised within rigidly hierarchical systems of class--with Kings whose powers were still assumed to be God-given--and still carrying on brutal, atrocity filled wars of religion among Christian groups, Europeans could not see Indigenous people any other way. </p><p><br /></p><p><b>Fly Away Snow Goose</b>, set among nomadic hunter-gatherers, was my attempt--alongside my co-author, John Wisdomkeeper--to address this brutal cultural collision between colonizers and colonized. The various religious groups who arrived in The Northeast Territory- what was then one of the last frontiers in North America--may have believed that they were bringing "the blessings of civilization" to their small pupils in those reservation schools, but that is not the story we hear from ever so many of those who were removed from their families and marooned in places with inadequate food and none of the familial warmth and affection into which they had been born. Siblings were separated, and the children all kept away from their famiy's home for most of the year, further disrupting family bonds and separating them from their culture.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlI21ozV3dVfzx9tPcQ6wOlw656HGWn6R48QcpJ2DIJSO4pCoKssUOZtKZ_Vp74IMu6oHxJ6L7u4XaAOAS2X3Bjh0NNhWjwGrbZsX3J2xwx2NMSGuYUPWzQxb8-YrlauPJKU-iDrOIt8eAUHMwr9v6KibVoHxUnft926VNLjoZTKRhlcaP7Q98jUM/s236/95691a99915e5e83b57912357288e02b%20cree%20boy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="157" data-original-width="236" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlI21ozV3dVfzx9tPcQ6wOlw656HGWn6R48QcpJ2DIJSO4pCoKssUOZtKZ_Vp74IMu6oHxJ6L7u4XaAOAS2X3Bjh0NNhWjwGrbZsX3J2xwx2NMSGuYUPWzQxb8-YrlauPJKU-iDrOIt8eAUHMwr9v6KibVoHxUnft926VNLjoZTKRhlcaP7Q98jUM/s1600/95691a99915e5e83b57912357288e02b%20cree%20boy.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><br /><p>If they were taught anything beyond religious formula, it was to perform tasks such as scrubbing, ironing, sewing, manual labor. They were taught that only European ways,--and people-- had value, that they belonged to a "lesser race" doomed to be always inferior, no matter what they learned or achieved. Their stories, myths, and especially their languages, were forbidden. The cold strange religion (with rites conducted in a foreign language) they were forced to accept offered little solace. Unsurprising that in a few generations their heritage, their language and their stories vanished, leaving only broken souls behind. Alcoholism, domestic abuse, and violence plague today's reservations, and these are all symptoms of a vast cultural trauma and individual pain. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI70qPlwBpe8tVlcTDEscrAVlMd7iGJWwQylhBQJn8aUkXidHl_8UxT9TLnsDLoO0i95yXdC2J-QMXSBtuBHiZ4owu7pssFG8BaZcGypVJczpsv8MT6U6QnRf7p3WWAC_uzKcjMnlXTc05kqTVHJvXvJleUcrgtku8Ri4bom3tPTC05mUlKm1gY1Fz/s236/b6f8dfe16f130ae31da401ad129bbf4b%20boardng%20schools.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="189" data-original-width="236" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI70qPlwBpe8tVlcTDEscrAVlMd7iGJWwQylhBQJn8aUkXidHl_8UxT9TLnsDLoO0i95yXdC2J-QMXSBtuBHiZ4owu7pssFG8BaZcGypVJczpsv8MT6U6QnRf7p3WWAC_uzKcjMnlXTc05kqTVHJvXvJleUcrgtku8Ri4bom3tPTC05mUlKm1gY1Fz/s1600/b6f8dfe16f130ae31da401ad129bbf4b%20boardng%20schools.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><br /><p>And this pain seems to have become endemic in our modern world, and, as we know, this pain doesn't spare rich countries. We have more material comforts than we ever had, but we appear to be ever-more dissatisfied and greedy. </p><p><br /></p><p>Consider the words of the Wendat Philosopher and Statesman Kandiaronk, as related to future historians by an impoverished French aristocrat named Louis-Armand de Lom d'Arce, known to posterity as Lahontan who published several popular accounts of his many years in New France. Lahontan, who had become fluent in Algonkian, Wendat and other tribes 1703 book,titled: Curious Dialogues with a Savage of Good Sense Who has Traveled) would become foundational to the later works of Rosseau and other Enlightenment and revolutinary thinkers. </p><p>In the late 17th Century, Kandiaronk was a famous negotiator among the tribes--Mik'maq, Haudesaunee, Algonkian, and others, as well as with the French. He was frequently at the Governor of New France--the Comte de Frontenac-- table and attempted through reasonable discourse, oratory, and persistent negotiation to save his people and their way of life from the ever-encroaching, insatiable Europeans. His thoughts provoked revolutions and inspired political philosophers for the next 200 years. </p><p>"<i>For my part, I find it hard to imagine how you could be much more miserable than you already are....</i></p><p><i>I have spent six years reflecting on the state of European society and I still can't think of a single way they act that's not inhuman, and I genuinely think this can only be the case, as long as you stick to your distinction of "mine and thine"...</i></p><p><i>I affirm that what you call money is the devil of devils; the tyrant of the French, the source of all evils....</i></p><p><i>Can you seriously imagine that I would be happy to live like one of the inhabitants of Paris, to take two hours to put on my shirt and make-up, to bow and scrape before every obnoxious fool I meet on the streets who just happened to born with an inheiritance? Do you really imagine I could carry a purse full of coins and not immediately hand them over to people who are hungry; that I would carry a sword but not immediately draw it on the first band of thugs I see rounding up the destitute to press them into naval service?"</i></p><p><br /></p><p>~~Juliet Waldron</p><p><br /></p><p>https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/fly-away-snow-goose-canadian-historical-brides-collection-book-8-juliet-waldron/1127581811?ean=2940158604010</p><p><br /></p><p>http://amzn.to/2jZPtIR</p><p>https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/fly-away-snow-goose-nits-it-ah-golika-xah-1</p><p>https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/752162</p><p><br /></p><p>I am indebted to David Graeber & David Wengrow's new book: The Dawn of Everything, for this introduction to the words of Kandiaronk, Wendat Chief, Warrior and Diplomat, and a truly</p><p><br /></p>Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-54133402338677635432020-09-21T16:59:00.001-04:002020-09-21T16:59:24.772-04:00Hail the Traveler<p>(Uncertain from where this comes, but it's beautiful and I wanted to share after the death of our great heroine, RBG.)</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42ezec7oGzVTHx6d7z0PO1-m0tHOZvfeXg910v6_OIobPeXzWrfLucDKpRa2ynvjOtx8TJ-RI5DaicqzRB6sGAh2MuLRpaxVGQSz5TPdEqbOlU3ufSmolwJn7DevYZ4yxhHqE0DwZ88A/s2048/Hubble.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1391" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42ezec7oGzVTHx6d7z0PO1-m0tHOZvfeXg910v6_OIobPeXzWrfLucDKpRa2ynvjOtx8TJ-RI5DaicqzRB6sGAh2MuLRpaxVGQSz5TPdEqbOlU3ufSmolwJn7DevYZ4yxhHqE0DwZ88A/s320/Hubble.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Hail the Traveler</p><p style="text-align: center;">Commit you back from where you came</p><p style="text-align: center;">to the arms of your ancestors.</p><p style="text-align: center;">May there be peace where there was anger.</p><p style="text-align: center;">May there be healing where there was hurt.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Go quickly to the place that your old ones called Home.</p><p style="text-align: center;">For those who grieve your passing, </p><p style="text-align: center;">let there be healing.</p><p style="text-align: center;">For those who grieve for what you could have been, </p><p style="text-align: center;">let there be healing.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Hail The Traveler!</p><p style="text-align: center;">We celebrate your journey.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-9B_zDLMiMDId4KdCokm1uBDttKafTeUmkeUB0oDS5-45evt5f3wYvSkXfbsutcpr57Yb4NqLLhbREQKb9rD7YX_d-6_vbrAWxxGGR2J-bDDj2H4Tm0JMkjDEPJ4_hl0T6CoGyGc8muc/s225/download+ouroboros.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-9B_zDLMiMDId4KdCokm1uBDttKafTeUmkeUB0oDS5-45evt5f3wYvSkXfbsutcpr57Yb4NqLLhbREQKb9rD7YX_d-6_vbrAWxxGGR2J-bDDj2H4Tm0JMkjDEPJ4_hl0T6CoGyGc8muc/s0/download+ouroboros.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-80680783222736272902020-02-13T21:55:00.003-05:002020-02-13T22:04:27.460-05:00IMBOLC, (Candlemass)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This festival is a power point on the wheel of the year. To our ancestors, one happening (one that only a few of us are today even know about) marked this date with great importance:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"Lambs are born; there is milk now."</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCjP-e-pKfwUtjCGGWKaFQDF77xq_F-h2hsFavo6JyRv-rnJF4wn3sonFYGutIgGgP_yQOWxatMFxBjto8kFftAiSGFb5YRY8Lwf7r1nQDl1sA7LuLMQppy410rlwXgF9oUb8FQRFxrnE/s1600/sheep_1391730c+lambs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="460" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCjP-e-pKfwUtjCGGWKaFQDF77xq_F-h2hsFavo6JyRv-rnJF4wn3sonFYGutIgGgP_yQOWxatMFxBjto8kFftAiSGFb5YRY8Lwf7r1nQDl1sA7LuLMQppy410rlwXgF9oUb8FQRFxrnE/s320/sheep_1391730c+lambs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> The winter (or at least that's what this season used to be) was in those Little Ice Age Days winding down. There was higher sun. Bare turf patches appeared in the pastures that lay upon south-facing hills. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Perhaps, down in your valley, the sun sets today in the center of the notch upon that looming crag.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Or, maybe, over there in the next valley, the sun sets at a particular spot, right there in the circle of stone built by wise ancestors.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBD0zcg0FtH8Q2w5mHAz1f1nPF5OMrnApZfwf9eMSb2r_HohXE0E6thbVbpGKPFAOtUYfOS-XW0RxDS0xZfDrVAxZ2Tkk5lGJGx5dwDhgt1nVX0I6DOxhGHjXwe9n7Nq6eS1sltnm62Ug/s1600/DSCN0804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBD0zcg0FtH8Q2w5mHAz1f1nPF5OMrnApZfwf9eMSb2r_HohXE0E6thbVbpGKPFAOtUYfOS-XW0RxDS0xZfDrVAxZ2Tkk5lGJGx5dwDhgt1nVX0I6DOxhGHjXwe9n7Nq6eS1sltnm62Ug/s320/DSCN0804.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The sun stays above the horizon for longer every day—and with that and some regular rain and no plague among people or livestock—there will be enough to eat again. If we are lucky, there will be plenty over to get us through the next winter, and enough to leave seed to plant in the year after that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Besides the agricultural, there were contracts between men and families which must be made, oaths given, hand clasping hand, in a community where a man's word was his bond. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I think it's a good thing to remember such times, though long ago.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Our world is different, but aren't our basic tasks similar? Shouldn't we support one another in community? Shouldn't we celebrate the simple miracle of the lambs? Shouldn't we speak truth to one another? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, let's suck up our courage and go forth to continue the work which will reshape our society for the good of <u>all</u> of us. Let's give up our fears and rally to put a brake upon those privileged few who sit like dragons atop the spoil of an entire planet's resources. Remember, even here in the 21st Century, "sunlight is the best disinfectant."</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiByLKdyJq7nxTdl263yXG6lRpdP0TzmTEI-xe9LbSafVmZ_CiDFwTEWh6dCxk_7frY4g0dndRP27yMQCbeqJUWw_7RZYOoaAIYwN-zeukkXcmlCBG0-JUCWFeFsXTCxOVgc6dGnoMP7dc/s1600/untitled++Aton.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="146" data-original-width="345" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiByLKdyJq7nxTdl263yXG6lRpdP0TzmTEI-xe9LbSafVmZ_CiDFwTEWh6dCxk_7frY4g0dndRP27yMQCbeqJUWw_7RZYOoaAIYwN-zeukkXcmlCBG0-JUCWFeFsXTCxOVgc6dGnoMP7dc/s320/untitled++Aton.png" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">~~Juliet </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">https://bookswelove.net/waldron-juliet/</span>Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-81107811166428363822020-01-14T21:58:00.001-05:002020-01-14T21:58:02.948-05:00She Is<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP2A-JK0pA-JopcYwcElNprnC8PvKuWoOZ32URo9jKsKwXVrB4d8aacqaR72OkCDWOB7_8jnDOadwef3Dl_JNTFW1G_78_MA6ZCY_-mR43sjl4HW4F6HeONyRBnTPM4VSAZ4dY8WtSycI/s1600/DSCN0803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP2A-JK0pA-JopcYwcElNprnC8PvKuWoOZ32URo9jKsKwXVrB4d8aacqaR72OkCDWOB7_8jnDOadwef3Dl_JNTFW1G_78_MA6ZCY_-mR43sjl4HW4F6HeONyRBnTPM4VSAZ4dY8WtSycI/s320/DSCN0803.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There is a real
world; </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">there is a magical world, too. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes we forget the magical
one, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">struggling too hard </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">in the painful, dirty, bloody real one. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But the magic is here, and </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She is here, too, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Our Nightmare Mistress, Life in Death.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">www.hannahboeving.com</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">artist</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes
she reaches down and touches,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Be still and sense </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">just the slightest grace. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The gold of autumn against blue sky, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">spring green -- </span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;">poignant, aching.</span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Heavy languid summer,</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">leaves, bliss in whisper of air.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">White frozen lake of winter, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">crystal glitter bubbles riming the edge</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">so the fallen fool can contemplate </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">the looking glass, gazing into glacier.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In each season </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She whispers a syllable in the ear, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">sprouts a mushroom, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">sings a bird ,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">offers a
single, starburst wildflower, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">tosses a stone </span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">from nowhere </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">to ripple the pond. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">That's a</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">life worth
living. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW4m4ZQ1Hh6lvvlq1GXjVi6RE4VOPGO3Wize7SVHl6mDSJt8D90FjcgR6U312mrpL5IZAv3l-uE8P9KVJuIhNLnLgvoFyCS6wGzC8yoOt5vvub6yWO7hdWQvP0Nw9AZAVaKyFEQffXddg/s1600/hares.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="450" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW4m4ZQ1Hh6lvvlq1GXjVi6RE4VOPGO3Wize7SVHl6mDSJt8D90FjcgR6U312mrpL5IZAv3l-uE8P9KVJuIhNLnLgvoFyCS6wGzC8yoOt5vvub6yWO7hdWQvP0Nw9AZAVaKyFEQffXddg/s320/hares.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">The ghosts I've
seen </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">near bodies dancing</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> heart's pumping blood spilled</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">on sandy shores.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I've blessed you, chorusing cicada, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">geese exulting through a torn sky.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Moonlight, starlight, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">wind and rain and stinging snow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I've seen the Aten,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"> clamoring hands reaching </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">from below the horizon,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">my eyes </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">swimming in seawater,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;">heard souls at the gate </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px;">of that incandescent chantry...</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUA9RC8sLZVrfhj5mRp5qaeb0arNuCP6UDaCXaGLWRbP70wmmywxTs9YXjgzDxfblbRvseU69R_k0nVbM9Y7qzXmTpnGzrBHskJN1w3p-7QWjGVJhuYeoAyQeqL0yz5h0RWTqDn5sqN1s/s1600/imagesC4PN9WSW+sun+at+new+grange.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="259" data-original-width="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUA9RC8sLZVrfhj5mRp5qaeb0arNuCP6UDaCXaGLWRbP70wmmywxTs9YXjgzDxfblbRvseU69R_k0nVbM9Y7qzXmTpnGzrBHskJN1w3p-7QWjGVJhuYeoAyQeqL0yz5h0RWTqDn5sqN1s/s1600/imagesC4PN9WSW+sun+at+new+grange.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Juliet Waldron</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">See all my historical novels @</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://julietwaldron.com/books.htm"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">http://julietwaldron.com/books.htm</span></a></div>
</div>
Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-91429675447916467502019-10-08T22:28:00.004-04:002019-10-09T14:17:04.113-04:00Life ~ Death<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This is a story-poem by Jen Marsh, who has been primary caregiver for the last five years to her mother, now sliding ever deeper into dementia. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Jen's powerful meditation is perfect for the original intent of the founding mothers of Cronehenge, who now find themselves looking back as much as looking forward. </span></i><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Several of us have already taken this challenging mother-daughter journey. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We have already attended upon the first two Fates, Urd and Verdandi. Now, we who are Crones move into the presence of Skuld, where begins our final unwinding.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLYLWG9J7IzbjVybh9L1Tt_UgMd-SeSDdBhKRFOjqZem3IOJ_Ayk_m2AAsIys6n1ZsFUv7poK7VHAjPYoPWX8bC0PMEFzHwwK3-N1WX-dt4tw18MsHltZIgLgwiozJwacEdPqyR0eJcE/s1600/thumbnail_IMG_1945+Jen+and+Mom+2918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLYLWG9J7IzbjVybh9L1Tt_UgMd-SeSDdBhKRFOjqZem3IOJ_Ayk_m2AAsIys6n1ZsFUv7poK7VHAjPYoPWX8bC0PMEFzHwwK3-N1WX-dt4tw18MsHltZIgLgwiozJwacEdPqyR0eJcE/s320/thumbnail_IMG_1945+Jen+and+Mom+2918.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Are life and death the same?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Is one more precious than the other?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My mom has dementia.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have been supporting her care on a daily basis</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For over 5 years.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Witnessing her reversal.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I cannot use the word death here</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Because what I have been taught about death</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Just doesn't seem to fit.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One of my greatest pains in life</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Has been my inability to conceive a child,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My inability to create and bring forth another life.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My life seems to have been focused </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">More on what most would consider</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The opposite of birth or life.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">With so many of my animal friends</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have been the main one supporting</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Their end of life needs.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">To truly be there</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Connected and engaged</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">All the way to the point of death,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I cannot describe it as anything but</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The most beautiful</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And the most painful</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Experience in my life thus far.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In that moment of letting go</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Death became a birth.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As I scroll through my Facebook feed</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am aware of a change in my habits.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I used to skip all of the posts</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">About mothers sharing their experiences.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Honestly it was too painful</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">To read about motherhood,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Something I will never experience.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Now I am drawn to these posts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As my mother is reverse learning</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Many of these "motherhood" experiences</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">That I am reading about,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am experiencing with my mother.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Battles with not wanting to bathe or shower.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The slow process of not using a fork.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Worrying about what can be swallowed safely.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The reverse potty training.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So much of what these mothers are talking about</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Are things I am experiencing in reverse.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When my dear canine friend Zaboo died,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The last moments felt like a birth</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Into something unknown.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A letting go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A moving on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And I was the midwife</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Encouraging the process.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ-KV3wjdmkhai0FzVEjiV1NmwyVy54Aezr6lPEsnXHqq6wzLWRdzjXGegT8pNboQgL2LaqU_U8PxgRYSbY8TfZTus1WhWn9uxVe7PxGIymtUt6jCjI6z8VmVT0csPUKQYtDGdEfKauN4/s1600/thumbnail_IMG_1944+Jens+Zaboo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ-KV3wjdmkhai0FzVEjiV1NmwyVy54Aezr6lPEsnXHqq6wzLWRdzjXGegT8pNboQgL2LaqU_U8PxgRYSbY8TfZTus1WhWn9uxVe7PxGIymtUt6jCjI6z8VmVT0csPUKQYtDGdEfKauN4/s320/thumbnail_IMG_1944+Jens+Zaboo.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am approaching this moment</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">With my mom</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The slow reversal of learning</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The slow process of forgetting</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">All life supporting processes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And, there are no set guidelines</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For the unlearning,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For the forgetting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">By age 9?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She should forget how to walk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">By age 9? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She should forget how to use the toilet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">By age 9?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She should forget how to swallow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Experiencing this reversal</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Has encouraged me to look at death</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">With new eyes, from a new perspective,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One very different from what I was taught.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The difference between life and death</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Is becoming very unclear to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Am I witnessing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">An approach to an end</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Or an approach to a beginning?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">~~Jen Marsh</span><br />
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Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-7929508712466596002019-08-07T11:31:00.005-04:002019-08-07T11:31:45.201-04:00Urgent Message from Mother <br />
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Poem by ~~</div>
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Jean Shinoda Bolen, M.D. <o:p></o:p></div>
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quoted from <u>Urgent Message from Mother</u>, </div>
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Gather the Women, Save the World</div>
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Circle up, sisters! </div>
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The time to save our world -- for our grandchildren, for our fellow species--is NOW.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwqlEgVsL4Sfwij45tkjUizlT8OLPIae4Uszypi0dmYgBTl9KoIUzapOO8hqwxpB54ejr0pSgnbwUCeO7t0h0SMdm6o5H2btNxxbf6B0cpAnEoYoiaJLA5t2zcOxyvmqM5PLkEjB7c9Y/s1600/9322de9eec398664f392ed9744504fb2+afro+madonnas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwqlEgVsL4Sfwij45tkjUizlT8OLPIae4Uszypi0dmYgBTl9KoIUzapOO8hqwxpB54ejr0pSgnbwUCeO7t0h0SMdm6o5H2btNxxbf6B0cpAnEoYoiaJLA5t2zcOxyvmqM5PLkEjB7c9Y/s1600/9322de9eec398664f392ed9744504fb2+afro+madonnas.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Untapped source of peace,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The only real hope<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Is to draw upon the
collective wisdom of women.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Those with direct
experience of the cost of war:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The life of child,
grandchild, sibling, spouse,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The loss of limb or mind
of someone near and dear,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The loss of laughter, the
pervasiveness of fear,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The loss of hope for the
future.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Untapped source of peace,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Those who have known
domestic violence:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Seen the effect of
bullying on sons,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Seen daughters become
silent,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Seen light go out in their
eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Those who know<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That when every child
matters,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When none are hungry,
abused, or discounted,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The world will become a
kinder place<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">For us all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Untapped source of
peace,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Women with empathy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Who live in a world apart,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Are safe, loved, and
fortunate,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yet can imagine<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Being helpless, beaten,
and raped, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then forced to bear a
child<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Conceived in violence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Women who know in their
hearts<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That what happens to any
woman<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anywhere<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Could happen to them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Untapped source of peace,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Women who see loved ones
filled with vengeance and hate,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hypervigilant,
fear-ridden, or afraid to sleep<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because of the nightmares.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Husbands, brothers, sons
and now daughters<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Home from wars,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bearing little resemblance
to who they could have been<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In a peaceful world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdRHbov-UIFutNizHGMFsi-SvBz-VbZBF0tZoIBLKqOf5Y3TUczQT4xSxN4eGuBrHYyP8VQ0ZzTCDA2rgBj0e_uP_YbgHhD8FCbuy4ZK9dXUR36MMfJLcqoqO5t9Az8k-vtNpTmelBSo/s1600/jill+coons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdRHbov-UIFutNizHGMFsi-SvBz-VbZBF0tZoIBLKqOf5Y3TUczQT4xSxN4eGuBrHYyP8VQ0ZzTCDA2rgBj0e_uP_YbgHhD8FCbuy4ZK9dXUR36MMfJLcqoqO5t9Az8k-vtNpTmelBSo/s320/jill+coons.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Untapped source of peace,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Women in circles,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Women connecting,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Women together<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bringing the sacred
feminine,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Maternal instinct, sister
archetype,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mother power<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Into the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj_BLvMB9m7lDtopy9A34m2kiuD2wM25fYkUVMV0HstgzcSjXybvLCuGYq_LHRpmBteT525MlyNW-nkhjaCTsWyRLJHqSMoMyz9vWTTbvyaDfsftzXPr2magYZXNVQs6NP6c6msiBkjT8/s1600/download+earthrise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="187" data-original-width="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj_BLvMB9m7lDtopy9A34m2kiuD2wM25fYkUVMV0HstgzcSjXybvLCuGYq_LHRpmBteT525MlyNW-nkhjaCTsWyRLJHqSMoMyz9vWTTbvyaDfsftzXPr2magYZXNVQs6NP6c6msiBkjT8/s1600/download+earthrise.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Poem by ~~</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jean Shinoda Bolen, M.D.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">quoted from <u>Urgent Message from Mother</u>, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Gather the Women, Save the World</span></div>
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<br />Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-13849581380063014982017-11-28T17:33:00.000-05:002017-12-01T20:22:49.120-05:00SAVE THE ARCTIC NATIONAL WILDLIFE REFUGE<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO9TpAXgj2hCQkEYxroEQNy2agHvhUbD1LXtJ1ZGLt8x_6_uYaC5s4Bjlaq1S9K8cAVpvjoDViuOUUSROYDlaRXgwOG2wlgumMAe0J5MKtv-AkhgC58gCLjJngNOJWX8a3CqD3MVShneo/s1600/images+Great+Bear+Lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO9TpAXgj2hCQkEYxroEQNy2agHvhUbD1LXtJ1ZGLt8x_6_uYaC5s4Bjlaq1S9K8cAVpvjoDViuOUUSROYDlaRXgwOG2wlgumMAe0J5MKtv-AkhgC58gCLjJngNOJWX8a3CqD3MVShneo/s1600/images+Great+Bear+Lake.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";">I cannot believe that this vandalism of an actual treasure -- drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge -- is even being contemplated. It's time to ask where the souls of the people now proposing this atrocity are, and in what black hole of greed they dwell. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";">This is the only planet we have, and so much of what our grandkids' future will look like depends upon our generation's changing our attitude toward Mother Earth. She's not Ours. We're Hers. We're part of a system, a part that's taken to acting like a virus. here, at the bottom of the sky, we are goldfish in a small bowl, where no one's going to come and change the water. The way we're being taken by our corporate leaders can only end with the human race dying in it's own excrement. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";">There has to be a major mental shift inside the heads of a lot of people if we are to protect such places from the "take paradise and put in...." <b>an oil rig</b> tendency of the guys who have made themselves our masters. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";">The sad facts are that's it's just another shell game. The money from drilling is pie in the sky. Someone among our complicit legislator needs to feel the stirring of conscience and put unbiased eyes on the numbers. These show that drilling in the Refuge is the usual corporate scam, which ends with one rich guy (Think The Baron Harkonnen,) a lot of busted folks--and with the bill for the clean-up </span><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";">for the toxic ruin left behind-- as well as for </span><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";">the many "subsidies" the industry will require--all the responsibility of the taxpayer. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";">If the peasants stopped staring into the daily electronic Circus Maximus and looked around them, they'd see the shackles being locked onto to their ankles--once again--by the thugs who seem to always-- in this and every other human civilization to date -- eventually rig/bully/steal/murder their way to the top. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";"><i>From The Audubon Society:</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";"><i> </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";"><i>"The Arctic National Wildlife Refuge supports millions of birds that migrate through our state and all 50 states to raise their chicks in its pristine habitat. Birds like the Tundra Swan and Northern Pintail return year after year to nest on its coastal plain, while caribou undertake one the world's longest land migrations to reach the coastal plain and give birth to their young.</i></span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";">The Arctic Refuge does not belong in a tax bill. Yet the Senate tax bill, which could soon receive a vote in the House, opens the Refuge to drilling while avoiding regular order and real debate. The numbers don't add up. Leasing is unlikely to meet the $1 billion instructions--more realistic estimates suggest it would only raise $37.5M. U.S. oil production and exports are at record levels while oil prices are near record lows. Further, the bill makes oil drilling the primary purpose for the Refuge's coastal plain, limiting environmental review in a precedent that puts all of our federally protected lands at risk. </span><span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";">The Arctic Refuge is one of our last truly wild places and an iconic American landscape." </span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "comic sans ms" , "chalkboard" , cursive , "emojifont" , "apple color emoji" , "segoe ui emoji" , "notocoloremoji" , "segoe ui symbol" , "android emoji" , "emojisymbols";">The Arctic Refuge is even more--it's a living, breathing World Heritage site, a vital part of the heart-beat of our planet. </span>Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-43260903270475556212017-09-06T10:42:00.005-04:002017-09-06T13:34:23.377-04:00Judy Chicago's DINNER PARTY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-djIyg41nlJVBHSw-xk4jLyNuEt2eUTGsMz-VxKIh-fp0qRGjm5jM0f-5UKsMi9QGt2P2g8YjD8WeLoIlSnf4th5Q71Rb1PfRgalkZkdhlm6yDuw1kj5Z8r3-_jpzwwmb_P0aA5xsHlc/s1600/29.708+Chicago+Dinner+Party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="474" data-original-width="500" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-djIyg41nlJVBHSw-xk4jLyNuEt2eUTGsMz-VxKIh-fp0qRGjm5jM0f-5UKsMi9QGt2P2g8YjD8WeLoIlSnf4th5Q71Rb1PfRgalkZkdhlm6yDuw1kj5Z8r3-_jpzwwmb_P0aA5xsHlc/s320/29.708+Chicago+Dinner+Party.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">During 1974-79, Judy Chicago, along with collaborators both
male and female in what are patronizingly called “decorative arts,” (embroidery,
weaving, painting on ceramic) created a work called The Dinner Party. This was a triangular
table with an exquisitely embroidered runner and 39 hand-painted and decorated ceramic
plates. Each was made in the shape of a vulva, and decorated in a way which was
meant to express the spiritual, artistic and esthetic contribution to society
made by a famous woman. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Dinner Party Wolstonecraft Plate may be seen, along with the rest, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">at the Brooklyn Museum: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/exhibitions/dinner_party/">https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/exhibitions/dinner_party/</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The work has plenty of critics, some, the usual suspects, powerful
old men in high places who loudly declared that it was “pornographic,” but also
quite a few feminists. Some criticism has to do with the way certain famous
women are represented—for instance, frilly 50's petticoat frills might not have
been the best choice for the solitary lady in white Emily Dickinson. Perhaps the
inclusion of Georgia O’Keeffe, who declared that her flower paintings had
nothing to do with the vaginal, showed a disregard for her often stated
opinion. Perhaps Virginia Woolf, a writer who despised the public’s obsession
with the gender of authors, is another who should not have been included. Other female critics have said that The Dinner Party is not
only vulgar, a tune with one note, but demeaning to women, reducing these brave and brilliant fore-mothers to a bad-joke common denominator. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf-aDYos7on-mYgNBSymyQDQapCmeV1eSvZ_5NG3xoyKi9mXE1XiHoBaxc2hbOpJp5gx7Oe7lx_Rg6jF3k94b01G_wZiB3HdLwGqoLPlqwgXaqiDrEkqEmTgZSdLW2ykpYFOyyM8eMKKo/s1600/BZ-SHE++sheela+na+gig.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="326" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf-aDYos7on-mYgNBSymyQDQapCmeV1eSvZ_5NG3xoyKi9mXE1XiHoBaxc2hbOpJp5gx7Oe7lx_Rg6jF3k94b01G_wZiB3HdLwGqoLPlqwgXaqiDrEkqEmTgZSdLW2ykpYFOyyM8eMKKo/s320/BZ-SHE++sheela+na+gig.JPG" width="260" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">http://www.sacredsource.com/Sheela-Na-Gig-4/productinfo/BZ-SHE/</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’m not a visual artist, but it seems to me that while you
might find fault with a part of the whole, The Dinner Party accomplishes its
purpose, both as a work of art and as a powerful, provocative feminist statement. It is estimated that 15 million people on
three continents have seen it, pondered it, and argued about it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The
installation has been a taking off place for women to think about their
obscured history and about their accomplishments, about their historical and
mythical power, their works of art and their creativity. It's a shout-out for the central fact of the feminine. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4JCcvNZIOJnwyeKUzX4OjEOOekr4_r7PYEckMmmd4YNb7_JcEvmQBveiX8KrHNoUS6-O0xfM0TRWwFLO1RWd603IzQUAtFR5r9vmIT2BYUs6fJg0Bw3bwavsQD-J_E3DS6oXE-03zvbA/s1600/givingbirth5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="298" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4JCcvNZIOJnwyeKUzX4OjEOOekr4_r7PYEckMmmd4YNb7_JcEvmQBveiX8KrHNoUS6-O0xfM0TRWwFLO1RWd603IzQUAtFR5r9vmIT2BYUs6fJg0Bw3bwavsQD-J_E3DS6oXE-03zvbA/s320/givingbirth5.jpg" width="238" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Hindu Temple, Goddess gives birth</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If the penis has been
celebrated as the ejaculator of ideas, why can’t the vulva, too, be
celebrated and honored as it once was in pagan times? Let's reclaim that old time pride in our bodies and what they can do. Woman is the portal through which all creation emerges.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Judy Chicago's artwork is ongoing:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBgTwaBIeykKXN2kC4egrckFXedR4bbBRWB6KbzdECmDAbMwNm4K50ThfeZcrTeXEmDXHEmTpjEBPtb2KZIK4G2vp5LkDEiJ4eKTlaGkUMbs5hQ7fqcfRez3XbHOcnOtZmx0SEHeHYf8s/s1600/TTF.1095_EU_4_Birth_Tear_E2+Chicago.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1110" data-original-width="1600" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBgTwaBIeykKXN2kC4egrckFXedR4bbBRWB6KbzdECmDAbMwNm4K50ThfeZcrTeXEmDXHEmTpjEBPtb2KZIK4G2vp5LkDEiJ4eKTlaGkUMbs5hQ7fqcfRez3XbHOcnOtZmx0SEHeHYf8s/s320/TTF.1095_EU_4_Birth_Tear_E2+Chicago.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Birth Tear, from the Birth Project, by Judy Chicago<br />
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Senior curator David Revere McFadden wrote about <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">The Creation</em> tapestry:</div>
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“...Casting this archetypal story as that of female fecundity flies in the face of visual, cultural, and religious history. It becomes a metanarrative by implication, reflecting Chicago’s determination to challenge the status quo and to question received knowledge”.</div>
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~~~Juliet Waldron<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">h<b>ttp://www.julietwaldron.com</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">See all my historical
novels and many bookstores where these are available @</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><a href="http://bit.ly/2gzOvgS"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">http://bit.ly/2gzOvgS</span></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.bookswelove.net/authors/waldron-juliet/"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-decoration-line: none;">http://www.bookswelove.net/authors/waldron-juliet/</span></b></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004HIX4GS"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "book antiqua" , serif; text-decoration-line: none;">http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004HIX4GS</span></b></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , serif;">https://www.facebook.com/jwhistfic/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-67046553879337410732017-07-23T22:02:00.000-04:002017-07-23T22:06:33.662-04:00A Visit to the Fey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was recently privileged to join in a procession of the Fey--behind no less a personage than the Queen of Fairies, as a part of her entourage. This doesn't happen to a human very often, and certainly not often to elder humans. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Old people remind the Queen of decay and death, things she does not allow within her realm, her realm which is eternal--<i>ever-green</i>--as they say. She and her subjects do not age; they are forever young and fair. Therefore, to sing to her and walk beside her people was a great honor for this old woman, definitely a bucket list item.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">(Not to say I've never danced with the Fey. I, in the days of my youth--back in the now legendary and generally misunderstood sixties, back when I was young and fair, I participated in her rites--rites which raise energy, and all that naturally follows after, those encounters in the dark scented forest, where all celebrants channeled Venus and Mars. Never mind, it's all back of me now.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Bay Laurel</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Fairy Queen is a lover of high fashion, of flashing sequined quirks, tinkling bells, supple bare flesh, bejeweled dresses woven with spider's web. She even loves kinky boots, so her devotees wore them too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Her entourage was more than ready to indulge her every whim, and upon this high magical occasion, they certainly pulled it off. I wore the best dress I had, long sleeves, flowing in mauve, in blue and green. A generous member of Her court gilded my cheek with a star. I braided my long white hair and carried a wand taken from the Holy Laurel. At first I held an inspirational leaf between my lips, like the Delphic Priestess.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The Queen of Elphame, by Fuseli</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Oh, how these fairies shone as they walked, fairy lights and fairy dust around them, making music with their sweet voices, a procession through twilight, following the glorious Queen and her tasty Year King! Beguiled, I followed after. When they began to sing, I took the laurel leaf from between my lips, lifted my laurel wand and had the pleasure of joining my still true voice with theirs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And what did we sing in our ecstasy--<i>again and again in an endless spiral</i>--but one of the songs which captivate mortals and carry them into a realm that is fickle, cruel, and totally enthralling, a song which the fairies will sing even as the silver flash of a sacrificial knife pierces their own cool fairy hearts:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We shall be free</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We shall be free</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To sing </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And make love--</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Won't you come with me?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">~~ Walker</span><br />
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<br />Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-34819357351843009082016-12-31T15:23:00.001-05:002016-12-31T15:23:04.579-05:00Packaging Problems :( By J. Olmstead<br />
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Ok ! Hey this is great.. Saves on finding a container to store your unused portions away until your stomach demands a bit of ham.. Or frozen meatballs...<br />
I seemed to have uncovered a small problem with this wonder technology .<br />
And that is......how to get them unsealed to start with.<br />
Dispite little arrows, dotted lines , clearly visible zippers , little printed tiny fingers pointing to how to get the package opened. I seem to fail miserably on achieving a clean open.<br />
My packages often end up stabbed, scissored , shredded . Cursed at.. And occasionally thrown hard on the counter with.. I didn't want to eat you anyways...<br />
Others are left with Ragged plastic edges that defy any form of closing at all.<br />
So, into another container to store... This one with easy snap on lids..another brilliant invention .<br />
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If, one can find the right one in a drawer stuffed with containers...and lids...<br />
All seemingly divorced. Or at least.. In a heavy argument.<br />
There are a few places in the mexican market where I shop.. Mainly on the street.. Where life is very simple.<br />
A round of homemade cheese is wrapped in plastic.. No seals.. And placed in a small clear plastic bag. Freshly made this morning .<br />
Fruits and vegetables.. Fresh fish filleted before your eyes. Shrimp.. Similar .<br />
Eggs.. Fresh baked rolls.. All slipped into an open ended plastic bag. Also Drinks served in a bag with a straw poking out.<br />
I am more and more enjoying that loose, no nonsense way of bringing things home.<br />
While I may on occasion break an egg.. Or want to put my drink down for a moment...<br />
I am not reduced to a blithering idiot trying to get at the product. Stabbing. Cursing frustrated. <br />
Ok, thank you for reading my lament...<br />
On purpose, I did not put it in a sealed bag for you!<br />
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~~ Joy Olmstead<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-62781298660766271822016-11-11T17:03:00.000-05:002016-11-11T17:03:06.097-05:00An Ancient Fable<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now, dear readers, after the events of the last week, it is time for a retelling of a very old story, first written down in Aesop's Fables. This, I fear, is a prophecy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Once upon a time there was a lovely pond full of frogs, all happy and fat and singing. Things were largely good. The pond always stayed full; it didn't dry up like other ponds and leave them stranded in mud. There were lots of bugs and many large green lily pads to sit upon. Still, the frogs were not happy because they were bored. Things were dull here, always the same. They thought they might like to have a king so that he could devise things for them to do. Kings, they knew, paraded about in pomp and splendor, which would be entertaining. So they petitioned Jupiter, Father of Gods and Men, to send them a king. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Jupiter, understanding the true nature of kings, thought the little frogs were foolish, but decided that, as they weren't very bright either, he'd send them a king who would neither hurt them nor take advantage. He dropped a huge log into the pool. This fell with a tremendous splash, and the frogs, naturally, were terrified. They all hid, some down deep in the water, others under the lily pads and behind rocks. Trembling, they waited to see what this new king would do. Of course, the log did nothing. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>After a while, the frogs recovered from their initial fright. They approached the log and swam around it. Nothing happened. After a little while, the young frogs jumped up on the log and took turns diving into the pond. Growing braver, they began to sit on the log and take in the sun and hunt for flies. The log was excellent for these purposes. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>This was entertaining for a time, but pretty soon the frogs were again sitting around complaining about how boring things were in their lovely green pond. This king that Jupiter had sent, they said, was "a milk and water king," nothing to be afraid of. This king made no great displays of his power or courage; he didn't go to war. This king held no ceremonies filled where they all had to bow and salute. Eventually, the elder frogs made the log their meet-up place and here they sat around for hours upon hours, complaining endlessly about the state of the government. Near the end of summer, the log grew sodden and sank.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Once again the frogs petitioned Jupiter, Father of Gods and Men, saying that this king he'd sent hadn't added up to much. In fact, he hadn't been a king at all, hadn't done a single kingly thing during his rule. Now, he'd sunk, leaving them in the same state as before, </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>without a king. "This time," they said, "Oh great God, send us a REAL KING."</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Jupiter had pretty much had it by now. After all, he'd been listening to them gripe all summer, so, this time he sent a large crane to be king over frog land. The crane was different right from the start. As soon as he landed, big feet entering the shallow water with a </i></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>splosh</i></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>, he began to gobble up frogs as fast as he could choke them down his long skinny neck. He ate and ate and ate while the frogs scattered, hopping and swimming in utter terror. The crane used his long bill to probe the mud where they tried to hide; he turned over rocks. When he found them, he skewered them like shish-kabobs. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>The frogs who survived the first onslaught </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>cried out pitifully, once again calling upon Jupiter, Father of Gods and Men. "Oh, please, no! This is not the king we wanted! Save us! Take the crane away! He's cruel; he's a tyrant! His belly is a bottomless pit! His appetite is insatiable! If this continues, he will soon devour every single one of us!" </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"How now!" Jupiter said. "Are you not yet content? You have what you asked for and so you have only yourselves to blame for your misfortunes."</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span class="small"><em><strong>Aesop for Children </strong></em>(translator not identified), 1919. Illustrations by Milo Winter (1886-1956). Available online at <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/19994/19994-h/19994-h.htm" target="_blank">Project Gutenberg</a></span><b><i><u><sub><sup><strike><br /></strike></sup></sub></u></i></b></span>
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~~Walker</div>
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<br />Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-25083512511568647482016-08-21T13:54:00.000-04:002016-08-21T13:54:21.711-04:00ELIZABETH IN FREEFORM By Orb Weaver
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: calibri;"><br /></span></u></i></div>
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<i><u><span style="font-family: calibri;">Elizabeth w/violets and dandelions</span></u></i></div>
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<i><u><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ELIZABETH IN FREEFORM</span></u></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A not very encouraging beginning,</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here. We cain’t keep’er no more.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lucky you. Lucky my
best friend.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lucky me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was your wuffler, your</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Trained human,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And you never got enough,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Elizabeth Rex.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq_QMF1Sx6A5v9fnPmex017TL4Yd8IC-EBTlJFREnigyIX7ZVI2KtA3JwLTKsRlFyd4FM4niLTjaXQjy8OClxj8NE3McWzpx8jAxAmlPTo66ldnfDGqoIw_c4lCnyutjqZqatZcCvWKNE/s1600/DSCN1283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq_QMF1Sx6A5v9fnPmex017TL4Yd8IC-EBTlJFREnigyIX7ZVI2KtA3JwLTKsRlFyd4FM4niLTjaXQjy8OClxj8NE3McWzpx8jAxAmlPTo66ldnfDGqoIw_c4lCnyutjqZqatZcCvWKNE/s320/DSCN1283.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You, of glittery eye,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Barely veiled contempt,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Going comatose in my hands,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Drooling on my jeans.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You and I</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Understood each other.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Evil spirits separated</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At birth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You were.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You are.</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Radiant bows to a fellow cat person, one who truly gets it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Juliet W.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPpQ9lWV93Afg9EncxJt7IXB3g-XI9JIaTEYE2PHVPoN6HXeYVBRnv_8k1Tgx2wRgn-R1irxoDwLkowEE05jXbiBWUGPQBMXn8cngCtlR_kgen8l8F9fXZqz39xR9DFADZUVKHXVV9hIY/s1600/DSCN0907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPpQ9lWV93Afg9EncxJt7IXB3g-XI9JIaTEYE2PHVPoN6HXeYVBRnv_8k1Tgx2wRgn-R1irxoDwLkowEE05jXbiBWUGPQBMXn8cngCtlR_kgen8l8F9fXZqz39xR9DFADZUVKHXVV9hIY/s320/DSCN0907.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Kimi in the wuffle seat. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Now that the old Queen is dead, it'll be the new Queen's turn all the time!</span></div>
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Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-87801837716485182582016-07-18T15:35:00.002-04:002016-07-18T15:39:58.275-04:00Element of Fire<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7zfE8OXE3iBOf598TcJcnnvNpXJIuZmTEpysr0pmE-ecKsMb5kAmyWjtbq21vfkV9wixHGSowkvccIZyJ0-61X8LnpAszSkT3qDB2gJiHL1VxqLKHzc0GOwPWDZcRm8WhpQGPH11jFg/s1600/sunrise+b3ac5664-588e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7zfE8OXE3iBOf598TcJcnnvNpXJIuZmTEpysr0pmE-ecKsMb5kAmyWjtbq21vfkV9wixHGSowkvccIZyJ0-61X8LnpAszSkT3qDB2gJiHL1VxqLKHzc0GOwPWDZcRm8WhpQGPH11jFg/s320/sunrise+b3ac5664-588e.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I wait for sunrise</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Beneath the white oak.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dew bejewels young corn,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Static pillars of fog arise</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">In the valley.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Morning stars fade.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Birds wake in the prescient glow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Twilight sublimates into blue,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ending the unfixed time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">For years I have come to bear witness,</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">But only in this year of heart-break</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Does the full glory greet me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now, through a d</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">oor of silence </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Steps Sun,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">First, a crescent of fire. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Serpentine arms flourish and glitter,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Reaching from the horizon </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">To warm my heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I am</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">No longer solitary, but</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">Among a rejoicing multitude </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";">In an infinite well of space and time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>A billion souls,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><i>And mine</i>...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Past and Present,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";">Quick and Dead,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";">All One, incandescent,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">On the altar</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Of Sunrise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">~~ Juliet Waldron</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-27089543278298719992016-06-29T15:11:00.003-04:002016-06-29T15:11:44.981-04:00DEPARTMENT OF AGING~~VANITIES, by ORB WEAVER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">On this, the 29
day of June, 2016, at 12:37 a.m., I hereby declare war on cellular phone
service in general, and so-called ‘Smart’ phones in particular. It has always been my conviction that this
monstrous invasion of privacy was perpetrated upon us by the young Millennials,
to prove their superiority by their creations of unparalleled stupidity, having
no taste, no style, and no integrity. It
is the cesspool of a wireless age. It is
distasteful at best and dangerous at worst.
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">It is every minute of every phone owner every day. Do they ever sleep? Do they not have jobs? Is it so difficult for them to understand
that driving at 60 miles per hour on a major 6-lane resort highway where
EVERYONE is in a hurry with their iPhone or SmartPhone clutched in their
crabbed little hands, pecking away between glances </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">up</span></i><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> to see what’s going on in traffic, is paramount to murder and
maybe suicide, as it if mattered. </span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">How can the vast
majority of car driving, phone wielding citizens who wreak havoc on our
highways every single day in every single state be absolutely DUMB on the
concept of distracted driving? What kind
of generation have we produced who think that whatever it is that THEY are
doing at any given minute is infinitely more important that what the other guy
is doing. And on down the line like
dominoes. And when did everyone become
so goddamn important? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">So. Let me tell you what has brought me to raging
at the machine. First of all, I have
never been a fan of cell phones. It
became readily apparent very early on that a large majority of users used them
EVERYwhere. And they especially liked
theatres. I knew, from those boxy little
flip phones, that life was going to become very much more difficult for the
gomers, the geezers, the folks who are
never considered in the design of these various things to make them more
geezer-friendly. It seems as though the
Silicon Valley boys really don’t want any help.
They are managing to make simple life functions as difficult as I
imagine getting a passport must be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Case in
point. There is an outdoor tiki-styled
restaurant on the water near where we live.
Before it was taken over by people who obviously had worked for Disney
in Florida, it was a nice neighborhood bar/restaurant, very quaint, and very
pleasant. When grands and great-grands
visited a week ago, they wanted to go there for lunch, and so we did. When I talked to the reservation girl to put
our name on the waiting list, she asked me for my phone number. I gave it to her, and she then told me when our
table was ready, I would get a text.
“Hold up,” I said, that’s my </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">home</span></i><span style="font-family: "calibri";">
phone. Oh, she said, very sarcastically,
don’t you have a smart phone? “No, I
said, “I have a flip phone in the bottom of my purse somewhere, and the
condition of its battery is unknown.
Can’t you just come and find us?”
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">By now an old guy (55+) came over and wanted to know what was going
on. Repeat the above paragraph. The restaurant employees are getting nervous,
and obviously have no solution. Now, I’m
angry. I’m angry because what should be
a fairly easy function of any major restaurant, </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">i.e.,</span></i><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> announcing the availability of “Bashore, Table of 7”, has now
evolved into a system that makes owning a Smart Phone a necessity. I mean, how can one expect to function in a
world we never even imagined? The
debacle was solved when someone in our party had their iPhone with them, and
was able to get the text. But what it
there hadn’t been? Were they that
indifferent about embarrassing customers for being out of the loop that they
are also indifferent as to whether or not those customers walk out. My bill was $100 for lunch ... 4
adults, 3 children, and everything was a la carte. And they didn’t care if they seated us or
not. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And then
yesterday, since my cell phone contract had expired, I visited the local
wireless store (the one that lights up all of the United States in their ad) to
find out about hooking up an iPhone 4.0 that was gifted to me. It did not go well. First of all, he wrote down $30.00, then
under it $20.00. He pointed to the
$30.00 and said, “This is your phone plan cost.” Then he pointed to the $20.00 and said, “This
is the cost of your phone.” No, uh, wait
a minute. Doesn’t the fact that I OWN
the phone make any difference here? “No,
he said, this is what it costs to have your phone on the phone plan.” So I have to pay them to use the phone I
own. So this kid says, “Well, at $50,
it’s only $15 more than you pay now, not a big deal. And I leaned across the table and said to him
quietly, Sonny, I’m on Social Security, and $15 IS a big deal for me.” And then, of course, with all the taxes and
hidden fees they don’t tell you about, I’m looking at probably $70 in the
bottom line. And so I did the only
honorable thing I could do. I cancelled
the damn phone. I lived all my adult
life without a little box running my
every waking minute, telling me things I don’t need to know, and lots of other
things about which I care little. The
fact that an instrument of convenience mostly for purposes of business,
commerce and government has become this interconnected web from which no one
knows how, or even wants to escape. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">So my spouse has
decided to get a pay as you go phone.
Good. I’ll use his.</span></div>
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ORB WEAVER</div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-52078988467099306492016-01-27T16:29:00.003-05:002016-01-27T21:00:11.216-05:00The Blizz of 2016<br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rough times on the east coast last weekend! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">From 70 degrees at Christmas, we descended into an old-fashioned hoot and holler of a snowstorm. I guess in central Pa it did not quite reach blizzard status, although the storm came, as all great blizzards do, from the Northeast, fat with ocean water. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There was wind and snow and snow and more snow. Here, where entire winters can pass without note, it was quite a sight. There was a part of me that found it welcome, after a NY childhood imprinted by stark Lake</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">-Effect White Howlers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">New York State Thruway </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For a little, I gazed out the window and sent my consciousness into <em>The Dance of the Snowflakes</em> (Swan Lake) and imagined Dame Helda (the German <em>Calliach</em>) doing her crone dance. It's beautiful when I simply fly on the wind as one of them, but frightening when I'm a human once more, gazing up at the swaying power lines upon which our civilization hangs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Nearby, from where they'd been sitting, enjoying a grassy golf course, the local "Canadians" squawked. When the sky cleared the next day they flew in circles, bemoaning the loss of the open fields upon which they'd been so steadily grazing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In the end, it was a local record: 30 inches of the white stuff in a 24 hour period. Briefly, our Hobbit name was "Under-Snow." It took a lot of digging--and some neighborly help--to get both cars out. And it's not so much the "digging" part, either, that's wearying. It's the trudge across the road and the toss up onto a high snow bank that's truly challenging.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Not that there was anywhere to go after we had completed our excavation. For once, most everyone paid heed to the warnings and stayed in. That steady stream of traffic which regularly hurries along "the back way" to the Park and the outlets, for today, anyhow, is silenced. Many neighborhoods in small poor urban areas remained choked with snow; days later, people had not managed to get out to work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This morning, we chipped ice. As we age, falling becomes not just a concern but a definite possibility, as Gravity's attempts to drag us--<em>once and for all</em>--to the ground, seem to have recently redoubled.</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">~~Juliet Waldron</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.julietwaldron.com/"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">http://www.julietwaldron.com</span></a></div>
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Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-16540950629176786942016-01-17T16:50:00.001-05:002016-01-18T09:54:40.873-05:00Old Falling People<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I hate this falling business that apparently goes with aging. Seems I've fallen more times in the last few years than I've fallen in the rest of my life. And, of course, it gets ever more dangerous to hit the ground as bones age. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My Grandma Liddle, may she RIP, fell and broke her hip at 99, which was the end of her life. The pain after an attempt to pin it became too much for her frail self. Her husband's step-mom also fell, back in the more cavalier 'late 40's. This Grandma Liddle lay in the cold--down the dirt farm road where they'd once farmed dairy cattle--until the postman happened along. Fortunately, the smart collie she owned came to lie against her and kept her from freezing during that long-ago upstate New York winter. She too ended in an old age home, bed-ridden; these were the days before hips were routinely repaired. Here, she too eventually died. These family histories have taught me that there's nothing good about falls after 60!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Now, I clean my house. I go to the gym. I do Zumba; I take weights classes and aerobic classes. I practice my balance in Yoga; I take long fast walks. During clement weather I ride my granny bike around town. I've fallen off that, too, more times than from my road bike that I rode constantly for twenty-five years. It seriously ticks me off when I find myself, once more, sprawled on the darn ground.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Today I fell in the kitchen. I was vacuuming -- inadvisable for bad backs -- so I was being particularly careful (I thought) about not lunging or twisting. As I vacuumed along the ceiling where the cobwebs of winter have been gathering, I forgot to look down, stepped on a part of the wand I'd discarded a few moments before. When it rolled, I did too and ignominiously ended on the nice yellow linoleum, taking a blow on hip and shoulder as I went down. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As you might imagine, a few moments of quiet contemplation followed, while I checked to see if everything was still okay, the trick back, knees, etc. My husband was no help or comfort. I probably fell, in his mind, to inconvenience him--somehow. Don't ask WTF. Old men, that's a whole other subject.</span><br />
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~ Juliet Waldron</div>
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Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-47892488515169891352015-12-29T17:47:00.001-05:002015-12-29T17:47:55.946-05:00~~Science Fiction Madonna~~<div style="text-align: center;">
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<u><o:p></o:p></u><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Hubble, thank-you! </span></div>
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Oh Dreamer, green beside<o:p></o:p></div>
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A quiet sea, </div>
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Child cradled <o:p></o:p></div>
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Close, flesh to flesh, <o:p></o:p></div>
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Haloed by the infrared</div>
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Of your star,<o:p></o:p></div>
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You hug a possible future.</div>
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One, together,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mother and child.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p><br />
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<o:p></o:p> </div>
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Though shapes, colors, <o:p></o:p></div>
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Genders infinite,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Your essence </div>
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Multiplies<o:p></o:p></div>
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On a million worlds,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Out toward </div>
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Forever.<o:p></o:p></div>
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~~ Juliet Waldron</div>
Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-59079440790162421852015-11-17T15:54:00.000-05:002015-11-17T15:54:13.307-05:00On Being Deaf Almost ~~ by Joy Olmstead<br />
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I am staying with my daughter , visiting, while I gather my things together to spend my winter in Mexico.<br />
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> Since she had moved from my neck of the woods.. To the south, this gives me some family time.<br />
> While it used to be frequent short visits when we lived in the same area, now, it is one long visit twice a year.<br />
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> Apparently, I can and do easily stress my daughter out.<br />
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> Much as I try to fly under her radar screen, I cause these blips to occur on her screen in the control tower, and she feels the need to pay attention and because otherwise, I'll crash.</div>
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> My hearing is not that great these days. I consider hearing aids, then wonder: Why? <br />
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> While I can't understand what someone is mumbling at me in another room... Face to face, paying attention. I can hear just fine. Guess my practical mind is avoiding a few thousand dollars to hear mumbles in another room, when I can walk in and say What? For free!<br />
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> So this morning , in the midst of the kitchen breakfast school, work rush. My daughter appears all sleep frozzy and fuzzy robed... And starts putting together her sons lunch.<br />
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> She turns to me and says in a very loud clear and slowly spoken manner. <br />
HOW DID YOU SLEEP MOM? <br />
Fine. You?<br />
GOOD ! I HAVE A MIGRAINE THOUGH. <br />
Ohhhh that's gotta hurt; I am sorry. She asks her son DO YOU WANT TO DRIVE IN WITH US TO TAKE NONNIE TO THE AIRPORT? <br />
Her husband and sons visibly lean away from the loudness. A short discussion ensues... <br />
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> I had already planned to be driven in by my son in law , in my car so I could smoke all the way to the airport. I mentioned this to my daughter. Now, I was busy re arranging my plan of action to accommodate everyone.<br />
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> She says, THERE ISNT A LOT OF TRAFFIC ON SATURDAY.<br />
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> I say yes, mentally, <em>I am hearing you say that we are going to leave later than I want, in a rush and my anxiety level will be on high...</em><br />
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> Meanwhile, my grandson says: Why are you talking so loud? <br />
She whispers next to his ear.<br />
Because Nonie can 't hear well. Trying to spare my feelings, I assume. I hear every word. <br />
> So, back to the car issue.<br />
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> I tell her I still,want to be at the airport a few hours before the flight.<br />
> She says YOU DONT NEED TO SMOKE FOR 45MINUTES! CAN'T YOU DO THAT?<br />
> Why, yes, I can , my concern is being at the airport in time.<br />
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> I find my voice getting louder and my speech slowing down, perhaps, someone else is being deaf..it was a natural reaction... I catch myself... Rein it in...<br />
> Alright... <br />
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> We are now leaning on the counter chatting. When I bring up my hearing, she mentions that it seems I don't hear what she is saying, so perhaps LOUD and SLOWLY will make it better.<br />
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> She and I, although we both use the English language, do talk in a manner which neither of us comprehends.<br />
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> I point this out.. And, I can see from the look on her face; she almost wants to agree.<br />
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> She tries so hard. I feel bad. Tell her so. I do drive her crazy. She got blessed with a mother who doesn't fit in the peg board no matter which place she tries.<br />
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> I am reasonably comfortable with my shape. Mean no harm. And see the torture she goes through. <br />
> Wishing we could both acknowledge the fact the the color blue is two or fourteen different colors in each of our minds, and not struggle with that.<br />
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~~Joy Olmstead<br />
> <br />
> <br />
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Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-6353057045623644622015-11-06T10:40:00.001-05:002015-11-06T10:40:23.857-05:00LEGACY OF POISON~SENATOR JOE MCCARTHY, MODERN WITCH HUNTER by ORB WEAVER<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In a time when hatred, ignorance, and bigotry are all regularly promoted by major candidates as "patriotic," this letter to the Editor is worth reposting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A local paper in my little beach town recently printed
a letter from a reader who extolled the virtues of Senator Joseph McCarthy and
his extraordinary Americanism, devoted to ridding the free world (or all of it,
for that matter) from the Red Peril of Communism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And since The Donald has also devoted his
campaign to ridding the United States of immigrants, legal or not, here’s a
story that bears telling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In the early 1950s I was a young child, concerned more
with learning to ride my first bicycle than with the state of the Nation, or
Senator McCarthy’s campaign to eradicate anyone he believed to be “subversive”
and more specifically, allied with the Communist Party in America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My grandfather, Spero Evanoff, was an
immigrant from the old Yugoslavia, and his wife Anna, was from the
Ukraine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He came here at a young age,
along with his elder brother, and carried all his worldly belongings in a rye market
basket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> (</span>I still have that basket to this
day.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He went to barber school in Western
Pennsylvania where he met and married Anna, and became a barber for the rest of
his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He left the Homestead, PA area
soon after his graduation and, green card in hand, with his young family
(daughter Eleanor, daughter Margaret, son Harry) moved back to Eastern Pennsylvania
to the Harrisburg area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had, I
believe, cousins and fellow immigrants in Steelton, PA, which had a large
population of folks from the Balkans in Central Europe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the death of Eleanor from a burst
appendix at age 10, and the subsequent total mental breakdown of his wife Anna,
and her institutionalization in the State Hospital in Harrisburg, he moved with
his two remaining children to Palmyra, a small town East of Harrisburg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had friends there, a married couple who
ran a tailoring business, as they had in Europe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life, as it does, moved on.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When Senator McCarthy began seeing pink things under
his bed and began sweeping with his vicious broom, the good people of Palmyra,
fundamentalist Christians of Brethren and Mennonite ancestry, decided that they
didn’t want a man with a strange accent from an even stranger country cutting
their hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His business evaporated, and
he was virtually driven out of town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His
son, Harry, could not deal with being ostracized and left home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His daughter Margaret (my mother) married a
local boy and began a lifetime of denial regarding her father. To me, he was my
grandpa, and I loved him, and he loved me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRHiUj-MVoAfdbrFNRjG2k4t9Bjvjlx6E45K7t_VZV-u3RQZJDK-Nj8cX2APWwYWmAZG73D32BQ2zeP-rMBtXwmqS1OAgjnssmm_lUjHaaV1rMXzPT2KWJQmhPfU92rP7e3BD3KGnrT3I/s1600/160923442-011+kids+chickens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRHiUj-MVoAfdbrFNRjG2k4t9Bjvjlx6E45K7t_VZV-u3RQZJDK-Nj8cX2APWwYWmAZG73D32BQ2zeP-rMBtXwmqS1OAgjnssmm_lUjHaaV1rMXzPT2KWJQmhPfU92rP7e3BD3KGnrT3I/s320/160923442-011+kids+chickens.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My grandfather relocated further West and closer to
Steelton to another small town, Hummelstown, where there was a greater mix of
immigrants and where, frankly, people did not care so much about Senator
McCarthy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They just wanted good haircuts
and my grandfather, being one of two barbers, was the only other game in
town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSA01yx1xIhWWlQEAkqf0KWx2x6b2LJQL1NTzN25ZHwJ8k_PE_eZJKWAktNoOqerJDjESaxPtdrkPH8H51nYU6jzUQ45jgNYftTkGR4549AdRkMNarZfiDmLmguif71trd3ph0Rpc4hqA/s1600/image786+steelton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSA01yx1xIhWWlQEAkqf0KWx2x6b2LJQL1NTzN25ZHwJ8k_PE_eZJKWAktNoOqerJDjESaxPtdrkPH8H51nYU6jzUQ45jgNYftTkGR4549AdRkMNarZfiDmLmguif71trd3ph0Rpc4hqA/s320/image786+steelton.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So, my grandfather had lost his business, his wife, and
all three of his children because he was “a foreigner” from a suspected
Communist-affiliated country and highly suspect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it didn’t stop there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He saw friends deported for no clear reason
other than the Government saw fit to do it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He saw other friends lose businesses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He saw other children alienated from their families.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And through it all, he paid his taxes, and
pledged allegiance to this country, the same country who would never grant him
citizenship because of his “suspicious” colleagues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tailor from Austria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Italian businessman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My grandfather died when I was fourteen, on
the Fourth of July, freedom for all, fairness to none.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1lUQ68AHWPRfusnVvBtRx8_-b2cKhqvPDCN9I-av8urBe9cA6euFEGEp3Yas6ez8-qpCPd-ScWJM40iuznV-eqaB7G_RohkWzksEbFT0wD0eneuQBu6ihu5xOGBLfitciVVF0Krg46k/s1600/1944d8d1d654f58d6f0ff7fe6f683dd6++communism+beatles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1lUQ68AHWPRfusnVvBtRx8_-b2cKhqvPDCN9I-av8urBe9cA6euFEGEp3Yas6ez8-qpCPd-ScWJM40iuznV-eqaB7G_RohkWzksEbFT0wD0eneuQBu6ihu5xOGBLfitciVVF0Krg46k/s320/1944d8d1d654f58d6f0ff7fe6f683dd6++communism+beatles.jpg" width="210" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When I was 19, I applied for a position at the former
Olmsted Air Force Base in nearby Middletown, PA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The position required a “Secret” clearance,
which usually took 4 to 6 weeks to complete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Eighteen weeks into the clearance process, I was called by an officer of
the OSI (Office of Special Investigation) of the Air Force, who told me that a
car would be sent for me at 8:00 the following morning and that I would be
“interviewed” regarding my job application.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The “interview” was, in fact, an interrogation, and the only people
present in that hot, unvented room on that summer day were a stenographer,
three men in dark suits, and me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
“interview” took over 7 hours, and I was given a bathroom break and a drink of
water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The questions were all regarding
my grandfather and his suspected affiliation with an organization called the
IWO, or International Workers Order, </span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">a </span><span class="st1"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">Communist Party-affiliated insurance,
mutual benefit and fraternal organization.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had no knowledge of whether or not he was a member, but he had
apparently taken out an insurance policy to protect me, his only grandchild,
from accident and/or illness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only
did they not believe my testimony, they caused my clearance to be “suspended”
which is, in actuality, worse than a denial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So I lost the job before I got it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some 20 years later, in Dayton, OH, I was a temporary worker in a very
large chemical plant with massive government contracts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I was offered permanent employment, I
was told I would have to have an AEC (Atomic Energy Clearance) check run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told the head of security that I would
never get the clearance, and told him why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They proceeded anyway, and for the second time I had a clearance
suspended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t get that job,
either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve done a lot of waitressing
and barmaid jobs, because no one in those industries cared who my grandfather
was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I am a very old lady, on
borrowed time, and I cannot let Mr. Foertsch’s letter stand without a rebuttal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span class="st1"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="st1"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span></span><span class="st1"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
would like to address one other matter, that being so-called security risks in
higher government.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span class="st1"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Even after McCarthy’s “cleansing,” we were subjected to
Richard Nixon, Robert McNamara, George H. W. and George W. Bush, Donald
Rumsfeld and perhaps the worst of all, Richard Cheney, who invented a war which bankrupted our nation and killed and maimed our soldiers in order to
profit from it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So much for security
risks. </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="st1"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The
defense rests.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigCUPVCMsU-Q94Jkhrk7UD_Y1H9qvoqkgp0imvXbJMX2Aon41rrZu387KEpNwXsDZNJth8I51GKMLuU95_f4tXKhBBZ_VbS1DOVp21ac-9qDBIkpoxglekkIqiq5tz3C2ZaYoSWp-PKg8/s1600/o-HOMELESS-VETERAN-facebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigCUPVCMsU-Q94Jkhrk7UD_Y1H9qvoqkgp0imvXbJMX2Aon41rrZu387KEpNwXsDZNJth8I51GKMLuU95_f4tXKhBBZ_VbS1DOVp21ac-9qDBIkpoxglekkIqiq5tz3C2ZaYoSWp-PKg8/s320/o-HOMELESS-VETERAN-facebook.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
~~~ Orb Weaver</span><br />
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Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-91408282755471035442015-10-23T15:26:00.001-04:002015-10-23T15:26:20.867-04:00How I met Alexander Hamilton<br />
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<u><o:p></o:p></u><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_pIJ6pjevtf09Lh-wXEc-AdAnqCubaQunbae7O47F5G92xD2ym-TWzVj0Hfr0MyYTBAtGsKbgdRowrgIw8xDA_moydBK4ePw9aT6eInSFoDN-qUYpIK_xbNspGj7tu5Eu2uo6p7wTmo/s1600/Waldron-MasterPassion1+cover+redo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_pIJ6pjevtf09Lh-wXEc-AdAnqCubaQunbae7O47F5G92xD2ym-TWzVj0Hfr0MyYTBAtGsKbgdRowrgIw8xDA_moydBK4ePw9aT6eInSFoDN-qUYpIK_xbNspGj7tu5Eu2uo6p7wTmo/s320/Waldron-MasterPassion1+cover+redo.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In a dim bookshop, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Where a huge, bad-tempered charcoal<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Cat with yellow eyes glared in the sepia shadow<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Of a fly specked window,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I found you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVB8-G6oerQpWIJCgBTGE5PcamyTp8SWl_e2Qe-5_LEz6wsZ4n8P1sCq4CFZcZEcHSEjVTAXrBr3oqZ0McX5L26mJfqliyx32nqOLpeO6XvicWe57G_CRSofAFYEW0J51zcEkM3GGKhA/s1600/nested_pic1+caribbean+boy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVB8-G6oerQpWIJCgBTGE5PcamyTp8SWl_e2Qe-5_LEz6wsZ4n8P1sCq4CFZcZEcHSEjVTAXrBr3oqZ0McX5L26mJfqliyx32nqOLpeO6XvicWe57G_CRSofAFYEW0J51zcEkM3GGKhA/s1600/nested_pic1+caribbean+boy.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A worn olive drab<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A bold gold title<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Antique spine, dated 1902.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Mother must have bought you,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The cost a whole $2.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Black and White <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Trumbull in front--and <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There you were!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You—ecstatic, thin, red head thrown back,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Face shining, 1776 on fire!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">No wonder your new friends,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Fellow aides-de-camp to the great <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">George Washington, nicknamed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You “The Little Lion.”</span> <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Accustomed to escape like this,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I read and read, oddly compelled to <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Struggle through a dense jungle of <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Edwardian prose,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The work of a once lauded, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Now forgotten</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Lady Novelist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Oh, how well she knew you!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Baby-faced orphan who withstood the scorn of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A world where you were “baseborn,”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Who held on, somehow, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">To the God Inside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I started sleeping with you <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">When I was eleven.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We were both alone and anguished, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Threatened by mean drunks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Who round the clock <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Figured chaos. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Outside, in tropical night, the <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Rum-soaked party, grown-ups braying,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Men fighting, pawing the women,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A grand finale of blows and vomit.</span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></o:p> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">*</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We hugged each other about the neck,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Knobby knees to knees,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Breathed in each other’s breath—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Yours sharp, redheaded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We tried instead to hear the <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Tree-frogs chorus, to drowse at last to<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The rattle of palm and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Whispers of Casurina, to let<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Lady of the Night bloom <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Inside our nostrils instead of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Puke.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Together we crept from the hot room,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And stared at the sky, until<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Our eyes spilled at <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Venus blazing over jet-black surf,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A mirrored path<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Across a living,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Phosphorescent sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<o:p> </o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGQtqxMqhqHphirnubAVLe0wTfyCsNp1IFi_E7YCjQi4etHopSMYMcOhBjEu_SJxSvGYWqRaKinTqjQHfDx3pxwU8Ad4mM70bGtno1GIF1EQHFZWNL_ydikWvpvVFZJgnhyphenhyphenUPPvgEn6Y/s1600/e38f68b6f3b9a42793c6865eafc886fc+phosphorescnce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGQtqxMqhqHphirnubAVLe0wTfyCsNp1IFi_E7YCjQi4etHopSMYMcOhBjEu_SJxSvGYWqRaKinTqjQHfDx3pxwU8Ad4mM70bGtno1GIF1EQHFZWNL_ydikWvpvVFZJgnhyphenhyphenUPPvgEn6Y/s320/e38f68b6f3b9a42793c6865eafc886fc+phosphorescnce.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">With that old book, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I traveled on prop airplanes,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On ocean liners, and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">When the money ran out, on<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Tramp freighters redolent <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">With diesel,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The rounded corners<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My creature comfort<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In a sinkhole of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Squandered love,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And money. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Across time, we held hands,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Brother and sister.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p> </o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcgT8nweadrxGpJRVIjByRTNBWrYxIlcL4GNil6UBXQNO0JBlz2NbFplrr0zMxeRAqSXuQ1zbmOcHzIeIsBa7fyTCq6gQjT2UmvabH-A3mXCLei2D76CEMGs_3vTYu8AoKBTXIkZmvAVE/s1600/FreeGreatPicture_com-31480-old-books-and-roses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcgT8nweadrxGpJRVIjByRTNBWrYxIlcL4GNil6UBXQNO0JBlz2NbFplrr0zMxeRAqSXuQ1zbmOcHzIeIsBa7fyTCq6gQjT2UmvabH-A3mXCLei2D76CEMGs_3vTYu8AoKBTXIkZmvAVE/s320/FreeGreatPicture_com-31480-old-books-and-roses.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We hid from blows,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">From nightmarish demands,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">From double binds tougher<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Than the Gordian knot,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Hid from the<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Stink of last night’s whiskey,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Trays of butts, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Hiding, fingers in our ears,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">From assaults which might <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Include us,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">From the harsh slap and roar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Of violent sex, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">From the Beauty<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">With a black eye, who is<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Our mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqo1q3Xdz3RybTJmkYrxgJhc1FoUh_9O9AOS6GQ6sCAgxtdWpBfVGQKd-p_cLfP_EymCdh9bzq5XHQGUi61i7WEZNsgn2VkpdWtglbCgaV4ZrqF1snX6HyUixGHviquzbP6t8z5Y_t2vk/s1600/5214537_orig+black+eye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqo1q3Xdz3RybTJmkYrxgJhc1FoUh_9O9AOS6GQ6sCAgxtdWpBfVGQKd-p_cLfP_EymCdh9bzq5XHQGUi61i7WEZNsgn2VkpdWtglbCgaV4ZrqF1snX6HyUixGHviquzbP6t8z5Y_t2vk/s320/5214537_orig+black+eye.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Tropic rain, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sloshing cow’s piss<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Splashing the palms, the beach,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Turning Caribbean streets<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>into an<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Odorous garbage-strewn river.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Hurricane weather, gray dragon clouds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sprawl above snarling surf.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">White horses stampede and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Boom, manes tossing on the reef.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We grow up anyway,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Children in peril.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWcWhcU5tBWn97L4cA-_apncsTu97qi9_M_CRxaS6rHw4F721e-JSR569Jw4aQmJWpJBNnYvqwbU0JdBqhG-EM9nvxs4HVVsHTD7h9ZWilCfYfI0ZAAlnnO4HQAKQTUh5CtyBJRdoetLg/s1600/800px-It_does_happen%252C_rainclouds_over_Barbados_%25286823546215%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWcWhcU5tBWn97L4cA-_apncsTu97qi9_M_CRxaS6rHw4F721e-JSR569Jw4aQmJWpJBNnYvqwbU0JdBqhG-EM9nvxs4HVVsHTD7h9ZWilCfYfI0ZAAlnnO4HQAKQTUh5CtyBJRdoetLg/s320/800px-It_does_happen%252C_rainclouds_over_Barbados_%25286823546215%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We find more books—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Mine in the trash can<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Behind the bacchanalian <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Bajan bar from whose stools<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Inebriated Brits leap into the sea.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He finds his in the musty,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Cockroach haunted libraries of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Planters, lordly gentlemen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He fetches and carries for,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Merchants for whom he copies,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dawn to dusk,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Accounts balanced,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Doors he jumps to open so <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">They can step right through,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He is just another a cheap<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Commodity, this brilliant charity child.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We part company.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He goes his never-was-a-kid<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Capricorn way, ponders<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Philosophy and Law,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Studies Blackstone, Hobbes and Hume,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And the new science,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Economics, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">While I, backed behind the bar, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sit on the floor and imagine, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Along with ETA Hoffmann,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">That an aria can<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Kill you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Alone now, on the beach, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I watch whales court <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In neon water, while at my feet,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sea foam dwindles into sand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I am lost <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Along with Odysseus,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Groping in the bedrooms of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Murderous Plantagenets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We grow up separately, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Different centuries, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Opposite sex,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Different books in hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">His ambition seeks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“War and Preference”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A Gentleman’s Honor, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">While I roam the brown-sugar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Strand, talking to myself as he did,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Oblivious to the unblinking stares of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Wrinkled old men, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A tan teen-ager<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In a yellow French bikini.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">~ Juliet Waldron<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="MsoHyperlink"><u><span style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A MASTER PASSION<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<a href="http://amzn.com/B00V8UT9I0"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">http://amzn.com/B00V8UT9I0</span></span></a><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/538709"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/538709</span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/a-master-passion-the-story-of-alexander-and-elizabeth-hamilton"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">https://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/a-master-passion-the-story-of-alexander-and-elizabeth-hamilton</span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-master-passion-the-story-of-alexander-and-elizabeth-hamilton-juliet-waldron/1122410105?ean=9781771456746"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-master-passion-the-story-of-alexander-and-elizabeth-hamilton-juliet-waldron/1122410105?ean=9781771456746</span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-49625230707398887802015-09-17T14:55:00.004-04:002015-09-17T15:01:30.940-04:00One of Those Days by Joy Gagliano<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">From my Friend Joy, who lives in the country and enjoys contemplation</span>. </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Today, the sun is out, forest and gardens freshened and damp.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A rare, late heat snap gripped our area for the last week or so.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So, last nights steady rainfall and fifteen degree drop in temperature were gifts bestowed from the nature gods. Greedily accepted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I sit on the porch, enjoying the air, color and sunshine. As I soak in the day, I realize it it the first day. Weather wise, of the start of fall. A semi sweet realization.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Harvest has begun, farmers, gardeners and chipmunks are gathering the summers fruits.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The smells in the air are earthy and full, leaves, some, giving up their green for gold and brown..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Others falling to decorate the mosses. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It is like early evening in the scope of the year of seasons.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On a good day, looking back on our hours, to see the fruits we have gathered is rewarding. Comforting. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We shall sleep well.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Yet, in the early evening, we know night is coming. The end of a glorious day, and at times, hard to leave such a satiating day, but we have no choice, no control..which, for me, is oddly comforting.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Hoping the morrow will give us the same.. Yet knowing, the march is toward the dark night. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And must be gone thru to wake to the mornings.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I love sitting on my porch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> ~~ Joy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">**************************************************************************************************************</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And here's another porch, in another season--the one that's coming. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Take a moment to appreciate these golden September mornings! ~~ Juliet</span></div>
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Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-91937725383850448792015-07-10T14:55:00.000-04:002015-07-10T14:55:49.882-04:00PINK SATIN PLATFORM HEELS ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD by OrB Weaver<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">~When the stars align correctly, Cronehenge receives a message from OrB Weaver.~</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">PINK SATIN PLATFORM HEELS<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was a
very long winter in Southern Delaware.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So,
its early summer and I finally get out for a drive early one morning with no
specific destination in mind: just to relish in the cool morning air after days
of wet heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I leave the house at a
relatively early (for me) hour, around 7 a.m. to beat the heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And oh, it’s Sunday.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This is
rural Southern Delaware in an area commonly known as Long Neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is half way between Millsboro to the West,
and Lewes to the East.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I very
rarely have the need (nor the temper for the tourists, those morons) to go to
Lewes, and so my primary route of travel is on the same road, but in the
opposite direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>State Route 24 runs
from Lewes to Millsboro, where it crosses Route 113 and becomes something else
on the other side at some point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three
years and I have not quite figured out the country roads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, I run the miles mostly between Long
Neck and Millsboro to 113 for doctors, my library, Lowes, Fulton Bank and lots
of family restaurants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the best way
to get from one side of the state to the other, but ... it’s two lanes, mostly
passing restricted (which stops no one), but with quite a few areas that allow
passing for brief sections.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a result,
it has the highest fatality rate of any Delaware state road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s quite an accomplishment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Misplaced, but notable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>On
this particular morning there was quite a bit of fairy fog lying in the low
field areas and in low-lying woodland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The sun was shining, reflecting off the mist, and everything was covered
in soft sparkles of light. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as I
move into a curve into an area of woods, on the side of the road I see
something ...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>no, two things ... lying
there, obviously discarded from a vehicle, two platform high heel satin strap
pumps in what the ‘50s used<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to be called “Titty
Pink,” and omigod, it was a note from the Cosmos.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">First and foremost, now I know there is at least one other
person as totally spontaneous and psychotic as I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hooray for my side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bless you sister, I wish I knew who you
are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it will have to be enough to
know that at least one time, in an absolute fury of independence, I can see<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you in my <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>mind’s eye, a word, a look, a ‘tsk’ pointed
towards you, you took OFF those ComeFuckMe shoes and heaved’em out a car
window, because you had come to the end of the line of ridicule, abuse,
torture, hypocrisy, or because the wedding was such a flop, you<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>actually felt some blame, so you tossed them
to restore some balance in your universe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I threw my shoes out the car window at 70 miles per hour, bright forest
green satin, the guy behind me in the semi was surely waiting for the
body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that was my freedom
gesture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And shoes make a
statement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shoes are like ... <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I’d rather go barefoot than walk one more
foot in these shoes that I wouldn’t wear if it weren’t for you ...”</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So to say
I had an immediate kinship with the former owner of those magnificent shoes
(think Joan Crawford, think early Bette Davis, or Lana Turner), because shoes
say it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And she was certainly giving
some man a big <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>FUCK YOU</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The only reason we wear those tortuous designs is because it is part of
female DNA, programmed to believe that shoes actually sell sex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we allow it to
continue, because even if we accept it’s bad for us, it’s always been fun to be
bad.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">go</i>, girl, you of the pink
platforms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I almost went back and
retrieved them, but I thought, no, that’s none of my business and I shouldn’t
interfere in what was so obviously a very strong signal to someone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I left them there in the hope that
everyone will wonder and everyone will have a story, but you have sent a clear
message of being just plain fed up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You
get mad enough, anything’s possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even something good.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Or, of
course, you might have just hated the shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Orb Weaver<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">July 8, 2015<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-58311218005937338452015-05-02T14:29:00.002-04:002015-05-02T14:29:38.538-04:00MAY DAY -- and Miss Gottlieb<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's May Day, just one day past Nanina Gottlieb's birthday. She's the lady who, 30+ years ago, entered my life and changed it permanently--for good or ill. I should know by this time that regret over things past is pointless. For this little life excursion, Card Number One of the Tarot-<em>The Fool</em>-was me.<br />
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I'd been in the habit of dancing and singing along with "Blue Jean" by David Bowie, at the top of my lungs, functioning as stress relief. Our family had recently moved to PA and both my husband and I had not found the excellent jobs we'd enjoyed working while in TN. Here, going to work was a bore and a grind--whether it was corporate culture, local culture, or just us--I'm not sure exactly how to describe it, but the office just wasn't any kind of "happy place." The chorus of Bowie's hit song was what attracted me: "...<em>Somebody send me</em>!" I danced every night when I got home, singing <em>"somebody send me!"</em> like a prayer, imagining that something in an oppressive landscape would change. <br />
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Something did. I'd seen <em>Amadeus</em> over the winter and got hooked on Mozart's music. Not only that, but just the idea of him, too. History junkie that I am, I'd begun to read about him, to search used book stores for anything about him, to buy his music and hunt for videotapes of his operas. In the midst of this, while chained to a desk like a dog every work day, I'd come down with pneumonia. <br />
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After finally admitting the illness, I took some days off to try to recover. I didn't want to, because new workers are not really allowed to get sick and women are pretty much expected to fold under the pressure, so, naturally, this is unrelenting. <br />
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One bright beautiful day, I was still desperately ill, but wanted to feel the sunshine I saw shining through the windows. I was too weak to stand upright for very long, so I lay down on the warm cement of the porch. From here, I looked up into precious squirrels' ears leaves. I put some Mozart into the Walkman I'd carried out, and from there, sent his notes into my head.<br />
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<em>Somebody send me...</em><br />
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Our grassy yard was gay with wild violets. The red and yellow tulips were in full bloom. That's when <em>she</em> came to me, through fever and a blue, blue sky. Warm breeze on my skin, spring in my eyes, Mozart in my ears--and Miss Gottlieb, whispering, telling me the story she'd kept to herself for such a long time.<br />
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<span style="color: red;">http://amzn.com/B0089F5X3C</span></div>
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It was a story of passion, art, obsession, and, finally, of separation from reality. Following her, and just as she had, I went to that place, too, for I embraced the solitary life and followed this old dream of being a writer. <br />
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Life being what it is, it hasn't ended well in every way, but, as the Amish say, "You'll have this."<br />
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At least I've told her story, think what you will of either of us. Following the Muse, a.k.a. The Triple Goddess, back to her cave, is bound to end badly <em>a la La Belle Dame sans Merci</em>, but, hell, we're all born to wither and die. Face it, nobody's story ends happily.<br />
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For a little while, here on earth, Nanina and I had the Joy of Art, of knowing through and through, a rare slice of the motionless perfection at the heart of things, the blue sky blue eye ecstasy. Think I'll just leave it at that. <br />
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~Thanks to Bobbi Merchant, <a href="http://itpsites.com/">http://itpsites.com/</a></div>
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~~ Juliet WaldronJuliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-75231207067528370522015-04-10T13:07:00.002-04:002015-04-10T13:07:45.322-04:00ABOUT HAMILTON
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s no mistake that people have discovered Hamilton again,
that least known, most difficult to appreciate, and perhaps the most personally
conflicted of America’s Founding Fathers. Less a politician than a matchless administrator,
Hamilton was a leader who actually seems to have believed the things he said, a
man who did not use his time in government to feather his own nest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a modern man in many ways, self-made,
without family or fortune, but with a nuts and bolts understanding the new
science of economics, the realities of international trade, of money and
banking. The men Hamilton worked beside, men like Washington and Jefferson,
were American aristocrats, slave owners, whose power base lay in land.
Jefferson, particularly, took an almost feudal view, imagining a new nation
comprised of large landowners who would rule over a laboring class of sharecroppers and
slaves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hamilton’s political enemies, busy calling his patriotism
into question, conveniently overlooked the fact that his character
was what contemporaries called "Quixotic", like a knight strayed in from some
earlier age. At the start of the Revolution, he gave his hard-won college money
to outfit a rebel artillery company. He crossed the Delaware with George
Washington as a foot-sore captain, freezing and hungry beside his men. During
the war, he was the kind of officer who led from the front, and also the kind
who intervened when his soldiers, still hot from battle, wanted to summarily execute
their prisoners. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As an aide-de-camp, he
served his boss George Washington selflessly and tirelessly, becoming the
perfect secretary/assistant to a beleaguered general with few other such
brilliant props upon which to lean. After the war, in his new incarnation as
attorney, he was not afraid to defend ex-loyalists whose property had been
illegally seized by vengeful neighbors. Hamilton also advocated for ordinary
men, like a humble ferry owner, whipped and bullied by a local landlord. Law, Hamilton
said, should be dealt alike to all citizens—whether rich or poor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For a brief time, he even may have dreamed, during the heady
first years after America’s founding, that we could have a “pure” government,
one without party, because servants of this new republic would be genuinely ‘public-spirited’.
After all, if a person wished only the common good—as opposed to only ‘good’ for
ones’ friends-- using the ancient tools of common law, common sense and
ordered debate, pragmatic, mutually agreeable solutions would, naturally,
emerge. ‘The People’ (as then defined) <u>could</u> govern themselves, not only
without the aid of king or dictator, but without special interest groups, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But Hamilton was also an outsider, an immigrant, a “come
here,” a fact his enemies never forgot or forgave. Worse, he was born
illegitimate, and arrived as an orphaned charity child. He was called slightingly,
a “Creole,” or, with franker hostility, by John Adams, “the bastard brat of a
Scots peddler.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the trope which
has moved Hamilton back into public consciousness. Lin-Manuel Miranda, a multi-talented
first generation American, is making a big splash with a hip-hop opera at The
Public Theater in NYC. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned about
this exciting theater piece around the time I’d begun re-editing a 15 year old “in-the-
drawer” book—<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Master Passion</b>—but this
unlikely form of interest truly cheered me. Now, someone young, gifted, and
vocal now wanted to talk about my hero, too! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After all, Hamilton has been in my life since I was ten. I’d
early learned that he’d worked against slavery, and that, like the wandering
lost prince of all the old stories, he’d come to the ‘Kingdom’ with nothing but
the brilliant head on his shoulders. As a teen, he fought for freedom. He’d won
the respect of the commanding general and gained the hand of a local ‘princess’.
He’d spent the rest of his life devising ways to make his adopted country
well-governed, rich and happy, fighting like one possessed in order to get
brilliant—but far-less well-informed and/or insightful associates—to understand
and accept his financial systems. The simplest way to say it: If Alexander
Hamilton hadn’t created a plan to unite those thirteen colonies by getting
them to pay the debts incurred to fighting men—and to the businessmen who’d
backed the war of independence—there would be no United States today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then as now, nation or family, paying the
bills is essential to safety and security, the base from which all creative
endeavor and industry flows.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Unavoidably, though, Hamilton was also a man of his time,
one scarred by violence, poverty and humiliation. He was a genius and
could be vain and brash, impatient with slower minds. He injured and
embarrassed his family and friends with a sordid love-affair. He talked too much when he should have remained silent. His insecurities
and his anger toward the enemies who'd dragged him through the mud triggered the political
missteps which destroyed his own Federalist party. Hamilton might even be thought of
as a man who engineered his own death. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Beyond all that, he remains--to me and others--a true tragic
hero, a great man beset with fatal flaws. If Alexander Hamilton hadn’t come
here, hadn’t fought, practiced law, been one of those critical first public
servants,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>there would be no United
States today. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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~ partial<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Alexander
Hamilton</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">
by Ron Chernow ISBN: 1594200092 Penguin, 2005<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The
Papers of Alexander Hamilton</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">, 21 volumes, Harold C. Syrett, Ed.,
Columbia University, 1987<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Founding
Brothers</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">
by Joseph L. Ellis, ISBN: 9780375405440, Knopf, 2000<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Hamilton</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> by Forrest
McDonald, ISBN: 9780393300482, W.W. Norton, 1988 <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Alexander
Hamilton and the Constitution,</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> by Clinton L. Rossiter, Harcourt,
Brace, ISBN: 9780151042159, 1964<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
~~Juliet Waldron<br />
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Juliet Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03636134924133019654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1813778508822325241.post-76288342173749489112015-03-07T00:04:00.000-05:002015-03-07T00:04:04.019-05:00The Maple on Pleasure Road<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A February wind was blowing down from Canada. Over great lakes, mountains,
cities, and forests, it blasted through an empty spot on Pleasure Road where a
Maple tree had once stood. The molecules of forest exhalations felt the lack
of form in this place, an echo of the tree that stood here until recently.
Recognizing his spirit, they paused and hummed an old tune, a song that only
trees know. Within that tune, they added a note of invitation saying he had
many brothers and sisters in the northern forests. Then they rocketed on toward
distant places, carried by the maelstrom of Boreus, the North wind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
The spirit of the Maple shuddered awake. He had dreamt more than heard the
sounds above him, though he recognized the whispers of his kind. The nightmare
of his recent death, that is the death of his trunk and leafy arms, still
rasped along his consciousness and raced down his roots like fire. He would
have ignored the upper world and slept on in his earthen bed, but the faintest
tickle of waking seeds around him kindled his desire for the spring push.
Uncurling his spirit self from the fetal shape of his retreat, he rose through
the ragged stump and pile of sawdust of his former self and looked at the world
above. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
A thin skin of snow raced along the grass and sidewalk. Between the houses, it
rose and circled back to the ground. The pavement of the street that covered
half his roots was dry and speckled with salt. He had been forced to drink
the dissolving salt for weeks. Well, he wouldn’t have to drink it now. Slowly,
he focused his awareness on the house that stood closest to his place. They had
imagined that they owned him, but at least tried to be kind to him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> About
twenty years ago, the first awareness he had had of his “owners,” as separate
from the many people who came and went beneath his boughs, was of their
frequent circuits on the paths they took around him. The man walked between the
car he parked just north of the Maple’s trunk at least four times every day;
the woman’s path and vehicle lay just to the west of the man’s. Once he had
singled them out as regular passersby, he grew familiar with their steps,
scents, and finally the electricity that pulsed around them. He knew the colors
of their inner lives - the shades of happiness, sadness, grief, love and anger
they emanated like grounded stars. They lived a frenzied, changeable life he
found fascinating as well as alien to his own constant presence and slow
transformations. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
Then there came the little human who began as a tiny bud, always attached to
one of its parents. He watched the rapid metamorphosis of their sapling with
astonishment. The little boy went from a bundle of fuzzy wrappings to a
tottering ball of light with chubby legs and arms in only two seasons. The
tree’s own progeny – had the humans ever allowed them to grow – would have
taken twice the time to grow so tall. As much as he enjoyed seeing the little
person, he finally understood how deeply resentment ran in his soul when the
parents raked up his seeds and carried them away or uprooted his own children
from their denuded patches of soil. The soft touches and appreciative looks of
this human family did very little to assuage his anger at their hateful
practices. They knew the very fulfillment they denied him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
So he began to rebel against them. His trunk expanded and roots strengthened
until he pushed the concrete of their walks up and tore at the roadway’s edges.
He ran his small roots up into the grass and small patches of flowers and
bushes they planted in his space. Then he sucked every drop of moisture and
particle of food out of the soil while releasing a subtle poison that stunted
the plants. It was a war he could not win, since they fought back with sharp
weapons, and water, and fertilizer. Still, the fight gave him release from the
pain that ran through his blood, the sap that woke him every spring.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
Age finally mellowed the old Maple. The rush of spring’s elixir weakened.
Autumn winds carried more twigs away, winter dried his bark. The assault of
insects carved out holes in his body, and his limbs began to wither and die.
Finally, the green of moss and grey of scaly lichens wound around him and
starved his body. He no longer felt such anger at the family because his desire
to reproduce himself faded, and the seeds that still sprang from him held no
spark. He lost his purpose, except to shade the people that still came and went
below him. He noticed more of their admiration and, yes, even their fondness
for his graceful arms and colored leaves. He found a simple peace with his
people. He was near the end of his long life, for Maples do not live forever.
He knew that the years of the man and woman would race ahead to meet death in
their time as well. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
A man with a chainsaw came and trimmed his dead arms back to live wood. The
Maple savored two more cycles of growth and stasis. These were the years that
he would always think of as his favorite time on Pleasure Road. The people
gazed on him with love. The woman even spoke to him sometimes, in her strange
burbling language. He knew she was sending him peace and well wishes. He also
knew she was saying good-bye to his physical being. When the man came back to
cut him away from his tall life, he did not struggle. He drew his spirit down
into the warmth of his spirit’s Mother, and listened to the deep realms of her
womb. Hers was the song of existence and love for every manifestation of her
Self.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
And then a miracle transpired, a moment of healing he had not expected. On the
night of the next full moon, the woman had come to pray for him. She had asked
the Goddess Luna to bless his spirit. She had thanked him for all he had been
in this life and wished for his contentment in the life to follow. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
As he gazed today on Pleasure Road, the Maple felt he could be at peace with
this place. It had been alien to his kind, but not hostile. Trees of every age
and kind awoke and whispered their farewells over the howling wind. Boreus told
him he must travel now if he wished to find a place where spring could coax him
above the ground anew. He drew himself down into the Earth and raced through
the roots and rivers beneath Her surface to the next place he would grow into a
young body, joining the cycle of life once more. A deep forest would grant him
the room and serenity that fitted his own nature this time. The Maple from
Pleasure Road would grace a pleasant place at last. </span><br />
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<![endif]-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16767925287517951006noreply@blogger.com4